


Punchbag Heartbeat

by Plutonic_5



Series: Let Me Take You On A Ride [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Poisoning, Alley Blow Jobs, Alley Sex, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Attempted Sexual Assault, Black Eye, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Anti, Bottom!Jack, Condoms, Crying, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Deprecative Thoughts, Explicit Consent, Fighting, First Time Bottoming (Relative), Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Insecurity, Jealousy, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Mild Blood, Nicknames, No Lube, PTSD (Implied), Panic Attacks, Past Relashionship(s) (Mentioned), Psychological Trauma, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Safewords, Scars, Self-Hatred, Sewing, Sleep Deprivation, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tattoos, Teasing, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Vomiting, drug mention, implied past sexual abuse, loss of virginity (Mentioned), mild Self-harm, smoking mention, top!Jack, top!anti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plutonic_5/pseuds/Plutonic_5
Summary: "Jack looked down at the lump of blankets on his sofa, shaking his head in amusement. A mop of puffy green hair sticking out of it, going on all directions. He smiled. After the day Anti had passed out on the street and brought by Robin to his house, Jack kept accepting the man's wonky excuses to be there more often."





	Punchbag Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel of ["Flowers and Leather"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929155).
> 
> Me and [@Trashcansasha](https://trashcansasha.tumblr.com/) are back with the boys! This chapter has an attempt of sexual assault and suicide on it, both unsucessful, so beware!

Jack looked down at the lump of blankets on his sofa, shaking his head in amusement. A mop of puffy green hair sticking out of it, going on all directions. He smiled. After the day Anti had passed out on the street and brought by Robin to his house, Jack kept accepting the man's wonky excuses to be there more often. Apparently, the place Anti usually slept was a wreck. He had told him that his windows were cracked, so he was always cold, or that his shower broke again, or something or other didn’t work and he was at Jack's place for “mere convenience”. The florist wasn’t at all fooled— his violent punk friend was probably very lonely.

He didn’t mind the man's presence one bit, either. Jack always found excuses to get him inside, too. He had come to like the guy, like he was a weird, alien cactus that grew on him like a fungus that wasn’t supposed to be there, but found itself at home anyway.

He might have actually a crush on him. _No, that’d be ridiculous_. But who could blame him, really? They kept making out and fondling around every night and, recently, at daytime, too, and at first Jack thought they were just… _messing-around_ -friends. But every day Anti showed him a little bit of himself, and turns out, he was actually a very sweet guy; though if anyone told him that, he’d beat the shit out of them. Jack grinned.

The brown-haired man knew for a fact that Anti didn’t have any business to make in this neighbourhood. Well, at least not anymore. He noticed how distant he was with his gang, and how he seemed to stay with them less and less. Not that he could blame the guy, those people didn’t look at all friendly.

The _Pack_ was a dangerous matter; the whole Patrol kept a close eye on them. The whole world knew they were associated with all kinds of crimes such as drug dealings, prostitution, assassinations, robbery, and even human trafficking in the past. The police stayed out of most of it. They had bases all around the globe, and threatening them directly wouldn’t be a smart move. So although Jack liked Anti as a person, he couldn’t help but be wary of him. He was a criminal, after all.

He knew little about Anti. He was the Pack's last leader's… right hand. Or something. They were always together, and Anti was known for a lot of murder, too. That was a long time ago, though. Since the last leader vanished, the Pack has been less... shady, under Anti's administration. And that was something Jack could appreciate.

He blinked back to the reality in front of him. It was time for Anti to wake up already, he needed to eat for once. He rolled his eyes. The man was all tough in the streets, and couldn’t even get a grip on his own health. He smiled softly.

He crouched down next to the sofa, and brushed the mop of green hair lightly. The cocoon moved slowly.

“Mmf.” Anti mumbled sleepily, poking his head out and squinting his eyes, trying to get his bearings. Jack bit back a laugh.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said in a quiet tone. He had come to realize that the green-haired man got a bit panicky with loud noises when he had just woken up. He looked at his wristwatch. “Or evening, should I say. You gotta eat eventually, you know.”

Anti grunts, closing his eyes. Then lays still again.

Jack chuckles. “Come on! Is my cooking that bad for you?” He teases.

Anti peeks one eye open. “Yes. It sucks.” He croaks, but the corner of a smirk can be seen under the covers.

He sits up stiff, yawning and rubbing his eyes. His back cracks. Jack winces. _Sleeping on a sofa regularly must not be good for his spine at all_ , he thought.

“You should take a break and sleep in your own bed, this sofa must be killin' you,” Jack offered. Anti's face fell. _Shit_.

“I guess I have been sleeping here more than my own place, huh?” He laughed weakly, empty.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack reassured, “it’s just that your back is making very unhappy sounds.”

Anti shrugged. “You’re probably right.”

They ate a couple of sandwiches that Jack had made in silence, then Anti rushed to leave, grabbing his jacket and putting on his boots. His ears burned pink, and his green eyes looked suspiciously shiny.

“You in a rush, or something?” Jack asked.

“I- Uh… I got some stuff to do. With, y’know, with the… The Pack. And stuff.” Anti stammered, going at the door. “Um. Thanks, bye!” And closing it.

Jack sighed. The Pack leader, turns out, was a big, anxious mess. Go figure.

As if confirming his predictions, Anti didn’t sleep in his apartment for the next few days. Jack thought that maybe he was about to find a blur of green-hair passed out on the pavement anytime soon again, but he saw that Anti was with his gang, this time. He seemed… fine, just hanging out with his friends. He shrugged. _Well, less to worry, I guess._

But he did worry. That’s what Jack did best, honestly. Anti didn’t meet him in the alley either, and they seemed to go back and forth through this situation where they kept from seeing each other because one of them was upset. And “one of them” was usually Anti. He didn’t blame him, though, the guy probably had some unsolved anxiety issues under all of that leather. Jack shook those thoughts out of his mind; he had things to do, people to see, after all.

 

Anti glanced over at his dead white flower on his broken windowsill with a frown. He had been sleeping in his shithole of an apartment for a few days now, and he missed the coziness of Jack's sofa. Not only the sofa, or even the amazing food. He missed the whole… environment, the fruity smell of flowers, the soft colours surrounding him, the comfy blankets of his sleeping cot. _His_ sleeping cot. When had he started to refer Jack's living room as _his_ in any way? He sighed.

It was just a matter of time before Jack got tired of him occupying his place; he was ready for it. He should’ve left sooner. The green-haired man looked around. This place _sucked_. Hanging out with the Pack, _sucked_. Feeling alone again, _sucked_. He felt hot anger tears start to blurry his vision. _No_. He was going to meet Jack today; if the guy even wanted to meet him. He _had_ to try. Anti huffed. He was really pathetic, wasn’t he? He put on his jacket and drove his bike to the alley, hoping the brown-haired man would be there.

He found him leaning against the brick wall, all ominous, looking at the full moon. It was clear he knew about Anti's presence, his stance attentive, but he remained silent. Anti walked next to him and leaned against the wall, imitating his posture.

“How've you been?” Jack asked, awkwardly.

“Good.”

“My couch misses you,” he chuckled, feebly. Anti's eyebrows rose, his chest filled with something he couldn’t entirely understand.

“I miss it, too,” he admitted.

Jack pushed himself out of the wall, turning to face him. He rested his palms lightly on Anti's chest, looking at the details of his torn up jacket, picking a few loose strands distractedly. Anti studies his face, illuminated by the moonlight. He looked a bit tired, the shadows of the night sky deepening the bags under his eyes, but the white gleam of their omnipresent witness filled his blue eyes with enough perfection to take anyone’s breath away.

His pupils were wide because of the dim lighting, his own green eyes probably looking the same. He studied Jack’s few dots around his face and neck, so different from his own freckles that seemed to paint his cheeks and nose lightly. He smelled like flowers, as always, his hair askew as if he passed his hands through it a few times.

His hands slowly moved to the brown-haired man's hips, barely touching him, and they breathed each other's breaths. Jack's breathing was even and slow, like he could fall asleep right where he was.

“Tired?” Anti muttered, his warm fingers now kneading the man's hips. The action seemed to relax him even more. Jack nodded slightly, his eyes wandering across Anti's lips.

The florist’s palms travelled up Anti’s chest to the back of his neck, his fingers cold and without any leather gloves. His skin was soft as he gently pulled Anti's head up closer until their lips met, the green-haired man tightening his hold to flush against Jack's chest. They tilt their heads to deepen the kiss, tongues dancing, slowly, almost _lovingly_ , and the faint sounds leaving their mouths were lost in the cold night wind.

They part, just an inch, then Jack moves to Anti's neck, tracing the green-haired man's choker with his nose, pressing his hot lips on his pulse point, planting a kiss under his sharp jaw. Jack's closeness was intoxicating.

“ _I want to make you feel good,_ ” Jack breathes on his ear, a shiver of arousal burns down Anti's gut. Jack backs away a little, looking directly at him. Asking for permission.

Anti searches his eyes, for any hint of malice or hesitation, and finds none. He nods.

Jack pecks his lips and moves his palms down back to his chest, then lower, while kneeling on the floor slow and sensually, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He holds Anti’s hips with both hands and mouths his crotch over the jeans, before raising up his shirt just enough to bare his bellybutton. Anti shivers slightly from the cold, the arousal, the nervousness.

Jack places an open-mouthed kiss bellow his navel, and takes his jeans' zipper in hands. He looks up again, and smiles softly. He stays still. Anti takes a deep breath, then nods again, giving him a shy smile back.

That seemed to be Jack's cue, as he opened up Anti's pants and pulled them down the middle of his thighs, forcing the green-haired man to keep his legs sufficiently spread so it didn’t fall down all the way. Jack hooked his fingers on his underwear and brought it down slowly, Anti's cock half-hard twitching upwards. The brown-haired man grins, feeling up his bared hips, his stomach, giving his as a little squeeze. His tactics worked flawlessly; Anti's arousal spiked up with the touches enough for his erection to fully stand up.

Anti looks down, straining his breathing to slow down. This, was more familiar territory. He got laid every once in a while, had a bunch of people get on their knees for him. But Jack was… incredibly skilled, his moves obviously practiced. The green-haired man watched, dumbfounded, as Jack closed his lips around the tip of his cock, sucking lightly, licking teasingly in slow circles, touching the base with one of his hands.

Jack takes his time, as if savoring Anti's skin, swallowing down further and further and stopping at the hilt, nose buried in Anti's short pubic hair. He doesn’t move for a beat, then _really_ goes for it. He bobs him up and down, moaning around him, the vibration making Anti lightheaded with pleasure. He licks and sucks, pushing him over the edge with so much energy and passion, with a hunger that could only be satiated by Anti, and Anti _only_.

His body tenses, the urge to thrust is overwhelming, his hands close up in tight fists and his eyes squeeze shut. A tap on his hip calls his attention.

Jack guides Anti's hands to his own hair, and relaxes his jaw. Anti takes an unsteady breath, gasping out, “are y-you sure?”, to which Jack nods as much as he’s allowed to in that position. Anti grabs the brown strands of hair tightly, but not painfully, and thrusts hesitantly once. Then twice. Then sets up a strong and slow rhythm, moving his hips luxuriously, fucking Jack's face with certain fervour that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He moves Jack's head as he was a human fleshlight, just a warm, wet hole, and for a second he could’ve mistaken him as just another guy, another tension relief.

But no, it was _Jack_. Beautiful, strong Jack, with those impossibly blue eyes looking up at him with trust and affection, communicating by eye contact, in complete control of the situation even though he was the one on his knees. His moans were muffled, choked, saliva running down his chin, as he rubbed his own jeans desperately. The alley was cold, the night quiet, but he felt so _warm_ and could only hear his own rapid heartbeat and quick breaths.

Anti tenses, starting at his thighs, then stomach, then his fingers closing into fists on Jack's hair. His thrusts quick their pace, shallow their depth, his moans are low and quiet but breathless as he loses himself, leaning his head back against the cold bricks of the wall, eyes rolling back and jaw hanging open.

“I'm… I'm gonna- fuck!- I'm gonna c-cum,” he gasps out, shakily, and Jack moans loudly in response. He takes that as a cue and yanks Jack's head to the hilt of his own crotch, burying him on his cock as he releases with a grunt, holding on tightly on the man between his legs.

He hears a gagged moan, his cock enveloped by a now convulsing throat. He rides his high with a few more brushes against his tongue, then moves Jack's head away. He takes a few ragged breaths before looking down, and the sight almost makes his cock twitch again.

Jack had laid on the floor on his back, his jeans stained. He was breathing heavily, chin wet from his own saliva and lips shiny from a bit of Anti's cum. His eyes were slightly unfocused as he stared at the sky, and his whole face was relaxed.

“ _Wow_ ,” Jack croaked, giggling, stunned.

Anti slipped to sit own the floor, propped up against the colds brick, and puts his pants back in order. His orgasm had been intense, and even though he wasn’t the one submitting this time, a thin line of anxiety kept him from truly relaxing. Jack looked at him, smiling, and Anti smiled shakily back, but his alert posture made the brown-haired man frown a little.

Jack sat up slowly and moved to Anti’s side, not touching him but providing a comforting heat that exhaled from his body.

“You okay?” He asked in a soft tone.

Anti shook his head. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, promise. It’s just a bit… intense.” He felt stupid even saying it. Sexual activity just got him a little nervous, these last four years. Jack shifted, opening up one arm as an invitation, to which Anti accepted almost subconsciously, leaning against his shoulder, nose close to the man's flushed neck. The brown-haired man holds him close, resting his cheek on his green hair strands, and Anti’s eyes fluttered closed as he breathed.

“Hey,” Jack's voice whispered, “ _Cholla_ , let’s go to my place, yeah?” He said, carding his fingers through his hair.

“That nickname is stupid,” Anti mumbles.

Jack chuckles, the vibration of it relaxing him even more, “So is sleeping in a dark, _open_ alley. Come on, let’s go.”

They disengaged and sat up, straightening up their clothes. Anti took off his jacket and tied it around Jack's waist to hide his ruined jeans, noticing the florist's eyes going across his upper arms' tattoos. He glanced back at him, and they both grinned like two idiots who just fucked in an alley. _Well, almos_ t.

 

Jack blinks his eyes open, and feels a warmth on his side. He looks down, to see Anti squished between his own body and the back of the sofa. They were in his living room. Looking around, it seemed like they had just flopped down the night before; Anti was still in his street clothes, missing his jacket and boots, and Jack was wearing random gym shorts, with no underwear. He frowned. _Ah, washing machine. Right_. He had thrown his pants in the wash as soon as he got home, Anti already out to the world by that time.

He thought about their former encounter. His jaw ached a bit, but it had felt _amazing_. He was happy to get his head off his own anxieties and worries from time to time. Jack didn’t like having the Pack so nearby, with children and families in the neighbourhood. He felt this pressure to be extra alert every night, extra careful with where he wandered around. Last week, he had got into a fight with yet _another_ of one of those gangs that passed by sometimes, of which the Patrol always had to neutralize then call the police.

He had had police training for years, he always knew what to look for to check if those gangs were doing anything illegal, such as drugs or theft. But it was exhausting, having the _Pack_ of all gangs here, _and_ dealing with random ones from time to time. Anti was also a thing. _Jesus_. What had he got himself into? The leader of the world’s most dangerous group of people, the previous most important mafia man's right hand, the boss of past _black market dealers._ He looks down again. _Right here, in my living room. Right here, clutching lightly at my shirt in his sleep, as if my presence grounded him in the deep waters of his dreams._

His breathing picks up, the spiral of overwhelming thoughts clouding over his mind. He needed to know more about Anti, otherwise he’d go insane. He was a fool for letting them get this far with each other, for trusting him so quickly. He was supposed to be responsible, to keep everyone safe.

Maybe he should talk to Robin about it. They were best friends, he always knew what to say when Jack felt at loss.

Anti stirs. _No, not now_. The man mumbles something under his breath, and makes stiff stretching movements. He frowns, and blinks his eyes open, trying to focus on what’s in front of him. He looks at Jack. _I don’t know what to do with you_.

The green-haired man gives him a shy smile, but falters as he analyzes Jack's expression.

“Wha' is it?” Anti mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“Nothing,” Jack blurts, “just a little tense, ‘s all.”

Anti glances down at Jack’s crotch, and smirks. “I could help you with that.”

The green-haired man traces Jack's hip with his thumb, slowly going under his shorts and grabbing his already half-hard member.

“Y’know what’s good about going commando?” He hums. Jack shakes his head. “It makes my job way easier.”

Jack was too tired to protest against something he wanted anyway, so he just laid his head back in the couch armrest and let himself enjoy some pampering. He raised one of his hands to caress Anti's messy hair, feeling the man's warm hand on his cock. He was stroked, slow and lazy, his eyes fluttering closed with the sensation.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jack sighs, bucking his hips a little, feeling Anti's own crotch move hesitantly against his thigh.

He could feel the jerking getting easier with the smear of his precum, so worked up already, all of his libido drowned by the fatigue of having just woken up. He  couldn’t hold on any longer even if he wanted to.

His body tenses, breaths coming out in soft pants, his moans going up on their pitch to almost a whine because _it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough._ He felt Anti shift and scoot up, pressing hot lips under his jaw, sucking on his pale skin, moaning against his throat…

“Fuck!” Jack gasps, releasing all over Anti's hand, his shorts, staining his own shirt. _Ew_.

His body relaxes with a heavy sigh, he hears Anti grunting under his breath and sagging against his side. They pant in silence for a few minutes, Jack almost tempted to fall back to sleep. Almost.

“We’re acting like horny teenagers,” Jack said.

Anti snorts. “I wasn’t that horny as a teenager.”

Jack pauses. “Actually, neither was I. I was a complete nerd.”

“ _Was_?” Anti muses, the brown-haired man smacks him in the head, making him dissolve into quiet giggles.

The florist rolls his eyes with a smile. “Okay. So we’re acting like… horny young adults. Like, between 19 and 22, when _most_ of us loose out virginity and all that awkward stuff.”

“Why the emphasis on ‘ _most'_?” Anti asked, puzzled.

Jack stared. “Well, you probably lost yours way younger, didn’t you? Like, 16?”

The green-haired man raised his eyebrows. “And why would you think that?”

Jack crackled, gesturing vaguely at him with one hand, the other still on the man's green strands of hair.

“Well,” he said, “you look like what I’d call a _fuckboy_.”

Anti huffs, shaking his head a little. “I kind of am,” he admitted, then something in his face changed. “But I didn’t used to be.”

Jack bumps his thigh gently against him. “Punk boy was a nerd, huh?”

“You could say that,” Anti said with a somewhat sad smile. “But do tell.”

The brown-haired man raises an eyebrow. “You wanna know how I lost my virginity?”

“Yeah,” he answered, and there was something on his tone that Jack couldn’t figure it out. Telling the story actually seemed like something he’d find interesting. He shrugs.

“I was at college, about 19. Lived in a tiny house with a roommate. Rafael,” he started, closing his eyes, fetching the memory. “Dark skin, hair always in a man-bun. Undercut, a brow piercing. An artist; he painted types of plants for me sometimes,” he chuckles, “also very tall.”

“You have a thing for tall guys?” Anti interjected with a smirk. Jack tugged his hair in response.

“It was the night after finals, our friends were getting wasted at some crowded party,” he continued, dismissively, “we stayed at our place, had some beers-”

“So instead of getting wasted in a party, you just got wasted by yourself?” the green-haired man asked, teasingly.

“We weren’t _wasted_ ,” he said, defensively, “just having some fun,” Jack smirked. “Then, well, then…”

“You got horny,” Anti guessed.

“I had a bit of a _crush_ ,” he allowed, “and we were sit on his bed, chatting about things.”

“Like we are right now,”

Jack smiled, “Yeah, like we are right now.”

“I think at some point we just started kissing, I don’t really know why. We were both worked up, from the finals-”

“-and the alcohol,” Anti completed, earning another hair tug.

“-and _stuff_. We started fondling and almost falling out of bed, like the world was gonna end the next day,” he smiled fondly at the memory, “we had condoms in our bedside table drawers, because of course we did. And it went from there, I guess.”

“Did you top?”

Jack shook his head. “I bottomed. It was scary as _shit_ ,” he giggled, “but felt very good after the first minutes. Everything was very clumsy and messy, we were laughing the entire time. Y'know, how usually ‘first time's go. Pretty sure we knocked out everything on the furniture. We kinda became best friends with benefits after that, fucking around all the time.”

“What about the next day?” Anti asked, sounding genuinely curious, a kind of curiosity a teenager would have.

“We woke up with a hangover, our sheets all over the floor after having passed out immediately,” he snorted, “then had a mild freak out, because we were late for class… but instead of going, we had a lazy round two.”

“What a mess.” The green-haired man said in a light tone. He paused. “Did you guys date?”

Jack shook his head. “We were best friends, and got physical fast. But he got a scholarship abroad, in a famous Art School, and I was making plans for my flowershop. We still talk to this day, though, we text and call each other from time to time.” Anti hummed in understanding.

A moment passed, then Jack prodded him with his thigh again. Anti looked up questionably.

“What about you?”

Anti's face fell, his eyes avoiding Jack's blue ones. He cleared his throat. “I don’t really remember,” he muttered, “probably too wasted.” And chuckled dryly. Jack rubbed the man's scalp soothingly.

He didn’t pry any more, he wasn’t stupid. Anyone could probably guess Anti had a less than ideal sexual life, but for Jack, with the police training and experience, could identify an abuse victim a mile away, even if they hadn’t fondled in dark alleys for weeks.

“Well,” Jack announced, “I’m all sticky, and so're you. You can grab a shower first, I’ll make some omelettes.”

They both got up, and as soon as Anti got in the bathroom, Robin came in; this was an usual occurrence. He’d always either have breakfast in Jack's place or just lurk around to check up on him, maybe bring him another plant, or help to water the ones already filling up the place. He came in through the front door— of course, he had a key—  and raised an eyebrow at the messy sofa, then at Jack quickly tying one of his jumpers that was lying around the kitchen around his waist to hide the state of his shorts.

Not that Robin wasn’t very much aware of the florist's sexual life; they talked about it on a daily basis, since Jack usually dealt with lame gangs by seducing the criminals, but sometimes he spared him a few details for the man's sake.

“Let me guess,” the light-haired man mused, “fun morning?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Robin stared, deadpan.

“ _Fine_ , maybe a little bit, Jesus!” the brown-haired man relented. The tech-man smirked.

The man glanced to the bathroom's direction, then back at Jack.

“I figure this is not one of your _seduce-to-get-info_ deals, is it?” he whispered.

“It never was,” Jack sighed, fiddling with his jumper around his waist. “I don’t know what to do.”

Robin gave him a sympathetic look. “You don’t know what he could be up to.”

“I _know_ ,” he groans, “but Robin, he doesn’t even _like_ his own gang. He said he was a shy nerdy teenager,” his eyes flick to the bathroom hallway as he whispers hurriedly, “he’s clearly been abused, too. You’ve seen how he is when he’s with us… How could a person so shy and defensive have _that_ lifestyle? It doesn’t make sense!”

Robin looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding slowly. “When I found him passed out in that street, he looked like a complete different person.”

“He was _trashed_ -“

“Not just that,” the man waved his hands around, “he was _alone_.”

The bathroom door opened, Anti’s hair was wet and he was wearing Jack's pastel green jumper with grey sweatpants. That outfit was basically his, at this point, he wore it more than Jack himself. His green eyes focused on Robin, his posture  immediately going stiff, as if he was waiting for something to happen, or as if he had done something wrong. Jack smiles reassuringly, gesturing at the kitchen table.

“You can eat while I shower, Robin can make you some company,” he offers. The green-haired man nods warily.

Jack walks across Robin, pointing at his face accusingly, “Be nice.” He says, to which the man responds with a mock salute.

He goes to the bathroom and takes a quick shower, putting his shorts away in the wash. He noticed that despite Anti's messy mannerisms, he always left Jack's stuff exactly the way they were before he used them, which the brown-haired man definitely appreciated. He washed his hair, put on some sweatpants and a pink jumper with white socks, and opened the door.

In the living room, were Robin and Anti, and some of his old videogames were displayed on the table.

“-and this one went _crazy_ in sales, kids would demand it with such fervor I thought they’d legit kill me for it,” Anti was saying with a light chuckle, Robin was looking at him curiously.

“Kill _you_ for it? Were you the one selling it?”

Anti's eyes widened a little. “Uh, I-I used to… I used to, y’know, work as a cashier. In a gaming shop,” he explained quite shyly.

“That sounds intense,” Robin offered. “Specially in periods of huge game releases…” he searched the game package, “this went out, like, 7 years ago.”

Anti nods distractedly, examining the game cover. “I was 19. Y'know, first job.”

Jack cleared his throat lightly, causing the green-haired man to jump slightly, knocking over the cover he had in hands. His green eyes look up.

“Robin was just showing me some games,” he quickly explained.

“I didn’t know you liked them,” Jack said, moving over to sit next to him on the sofa, the opposite side of where Robin was. Anti seemed to lean almost imperceptibly to Jack’s side.

“I do,” he said, then smirked mischievously. “I could probably kick your ass in most of these.” He dared, gesturing to the games laid on the table.

“ _Oooh_ ,” Robin voiced, sounding incredibly amused, “you just challenged the biggest videogame nerd of this neighbourhood.”

“This neighbourhood is lame. I bet Jack sucks.” Anti taunted, with the biggest grin plastered across his face. Jack smacked him playfully on the back of his head.

“Is that a challenge?” The florist prompted.

As Anti opened his mouth to retort, Robin looked at his wristwatch, and cut in, “It’s a promise. _After_ work. Jack, your plants are dying.”

Jack puts his hand on his chest, “Don’t even joke about those things.”

Anti looked down at himself with a slightly panicked expression.

“You can stay here, put your clothes in the wash. Wait it out until they’re clean, no rush.” Jack reassured. Anti probably didn’t want his group to see him in Jack's clothes.

The green-haired man nodded appreciatively.

Robin claps Jack's back. “Let’s go.”

Jack got himself changed in his pastel green overalls, combed his hair back, and went out the door, calling Anti goodbye.

 

As he arrived at the flower shop, someone was at the door, fixing the “ _closed_ ” plaque. She was short and thin,  had shoulder-length brown hair and pale skin.

“Excuse me, ma’am, we’re closed,” he said in a serious voice, but with a knowing smirk.

The woman turned back with a smile, opening her arms. “Jack!” She exclaimed, hugging him tight.

“Came back from vacation already?” He asked her.

Signe, or variations of “ _Wiishu_ ” as he liked to call her, was technically his boss. They started the shop together as soon as they were out of college. Jack, having his botanist degree, and Signe, with her business management one, were an incredible working duo.

“Had to get back to work eventually,” she answered with a smile.

Jack gestures at the door, with an exaggerated bow. “Make the honours.”

Wiishu giggles, opening the glass door, and stepping inside. The brown-haired man moves around, turning on the lights, opening the window, fixing plant vases. He glances at the cacti at the windowsill and smiles. _I should give Anti one of those_. He glanced at Signe, who was looking at him with a smug expression.

“So, who is it?” She asks.

Jack blinks. “Who’s what?”

“The person you’re in love with,” she said, in a ‘ _well, duh!_ ’ kind of voice.

He makes an indignant noise. “Who’s to say I’m in love with anyone?!”

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, I know how much you love your plants more than anyone. But you were looking at those cacti as one would look at a wedding ring.”

Jack chokes. “I don’t know what you’re talkin' about.”

Signe props her back against the balcony, crossing her arms over her chest. She raises a brow. The man groans.

“I can’t tell you, you’ll hit me in the head,” he says.

“I won’t hit you in the head,” she assures. Then pauses, green eyes wide, “oh my god, is it Robin?! I knew it!”

Jack bursts out laughing. “ _No_!” He shouts incredulously.

“Jack, it’s okay if it is-”

“Signe! For God’s sake!”

The woman shrugs, “He’s a handsome man.”

Jack rolls his eyes, and after a moment of silence, he gives up.

“I’m… hanging out with a guy,” he admits. Signe makes a ‘ _go on’_ gesture. “But he’s the leader of a dangerous gang.”

“Well, you do deal with those all the time…”

Jack swallows. “It’s the Pack.”

Silence. Her eyes widen, looking outside.

“They’re _here_?!” She asks in a hushed tone, leaning closer to him.

“Yes,” and before she could react, he adds quickly, “but everything is under control. They aren’t even doing anything, because Anti won’t let them.”

“Anti? The mafia man’s _killer_?”

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “The mafia man has been dead for 4 years. Anti is changed-“

“So he doesn’t kill anymore? Doesn’t make drug deals? Doesn’t vandalize and steal in every neighbourhood he goes?! This is the Pack we’re talking about, Jack, not a high school crush!”

“He doesn’t even _like them!”_ He shouts, then takes a shaky breath, “Signe, you should’ve seen him when he’s not hidden beneath his leader facade. He doesn’t seem to like his lifestyle. I’m afraid-” his voice lowers to a whisper, “-I’m afraid he never did.”

Signe's eyes soften. “I believe you.”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “You do?”

“Yes,” she says, “it wouldn’t surprise me if Anti had been forced to this fate because of an unfortunate life, or-or something. Maybe he needed money, maybe he needed _something_ , I don’t know.”

He nods, waiting for her to finish. She puts a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“I think,” she says, carefully, “that you’re attached to him because you see something is wrong. You want to _save_ him, because that’s what you always do. Superhero Jack, yeah?” She chuckles, “you don’t actually want to get involved with him. It wouldn’t be wise of you to.”

Jack sighs. He knew she was right. He glances at the cacti again with a sad expression. _Maybe I don’t really like him_ , he thinks, and nods to himself.

He looks at his wristwatch. “Time to open the shop,” he mumbles, Signe pats him on the back.

She goes up the stairs to where her little office is, and Jack goes behind the balcony.

Not even 5 minutes later, while he was moving a pot of daisies away, the tiny bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. Jack puts his most polite smile on his face, and looks up.

The man was tall and skinny, honey-coloured hair pushed back with hair gel. His skin sickly pale, and a winning white smile plastered across his face. He wore a suit casually, collar of his shirt open, no tie. Hands on his pockets. He looks around until his eyes stop on Jack's figure.

He walks closer, his eyes were green, but slightly… wrong. Dark green, but too sharp. As if he was always calculating his next move. Jack shakes his head. You’re _just comparing them to Anti's_. Anti’s eyes were open, wide, full of curiosity, even when he pretended to be a bad guy. That fascinated Jack, because a man with that kind of status should have cold, hard eyes, but that wasn’t the case with Anti, for some reason.

“Good morning,” the stranger greets, pulling Jack way from his thoughts.

“Good morning,” Jack says, “can I help you?”

The man grins. “I am Richard Carlson, pleasure to meet you,” he holds his hand out, Jack shakes it awkwardly. “I’d like to buy a bouquet.”

Jack nods. “May I suggest getting a vase instead?”

The man—Richard, raises his eyebrows. “Of course.”

The florist smiles. He asks about what type of flower the customer would like, what kind of smell, the size of the vase. Richard ends up getting a pot of dogsbane. Jack grimaces a bit to the meaning of this flower in particular, but it’s not like people really care or know about what flowers could tell.

“Thank you, it was nice to meet you. We’ll see each other around,” he says, and leaves the shop with a wink.

Jack felt uncomfortable. He was used to people flirting with him, or showing some kind of interest. He was a handsome man, after all. But this guy just felt… off. Weird. Maybe his mind was too occupied with _another_ man of green eyes.

 _Oh well_ , he thought, and went back to work, organizing a few vases.

 

Back at Jack’s place, Anti sighed, looking at the washing machine. He’d wait for it to be done, then dry his clothes, and he’d go off to his shitty apartment. Or maybe hang out with the Pack. They were starting to have a few questions about he and Jack's… relationship. Friendship. _Professional meetings_. He decided not to think about it, it’d just cause him more stress to deal with. He liked Jack, and Jack liked him. _Right?_

He shook his head. He could just tell his gang that he was doing drugs, or whatever. Not that Anti ever did drugs, or drank much, or anything like that. Despite his shady lifestyle, his body remained clean, with just a few drinks here and there, mostly for show. He didn’t like not being in control of his own body.

As he waited for his clothes to get clean, he wandered around the living room. Old games were still sprawled across the desk. It made him feel… nostalgic, almost. How he used to sell these for bright eyed children and teens, how he dealt with disapproving parents that couldn’t understand what gaming was. He huffed. He had fun with that job. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Anti put the games back where Robin had taken them from, and looked around. He really did like this place, but he couldn’t just sleep here all the time, like he _lived_ there. Though, he was pretty much an inconsistent housemate, at this point. The washing machine made a sound. _Well, time to go back to reality_.

After making himself look presentable— or in this case, like garbage— he walked to the place the Pack usually hung out. He could already see a few men smoking and drinking on the pavement.

“Well, look who it is!” One of them called out, signaling Anti’s presence to the others.

“Thought you had forgotten us, boss,” another man said, with a shit-eating grin.

Anti smirked, his posture going from relaxed to assertive, hands deep in his leather jacket pockets. He gave them a greeting nod.

“What have you assholes been doing?” He asked with a bored tone. The men snorted.

“Oh, y'know,” the first one shrugged, “stuff. What have _you_ been doing?”

Anti huffed. “None of your business, is it now?”

The second guy chuckled. “Been getting some good deals?” He asked, then wiggled his eyebrows, “some good ass?”

The men around all laughed. Anti rolled his eyes with an easy grin. “Something like that.”

“Boss,” a man with nicotine stained teeth called, “we’re getting low on cash.”

The green-haired man snorted. “Go rob a bank, or something,” he waved his hands dismissively, “do I _have_ do to everything around here?”

The men all smirked. “Just not on this neighbourhood,” he added quickly, “and no killing.”

“You’re a man of the law now?” One of them joked.

Anti rolled his eyes. “The police is on our tails around here, and I ain’t gonna save any of your stupid asses.”

The men groaned in understanding. Anti cracked his neck with a sigh. Sleeping in that sofa for days was probably making his already fucked up back worse. Not that he cared, it was just annoying.

“Now go on,” Anti ushered, waving his hands in a shooing manner, “get off the floor, do something that’s not scratching your balls all day, be useful.”

The gang made disproving sounds, and started moving. The green-haired man nodded assertively, and turned away to walk back to his shitty apartment.

Arriving there, he could see a forgotten plant pot on his window, that once carried lively _calla lilies_. The plant has been dead for quite some time, since he barely slept here, much less took care of the flower. He huffed. Jack would probably beat the shit out of him if he knew how careless Anti had been with the plant. Anti smiled at the thought, and laid down on his old mattress on the floor.

He looked at the ceiling, stained with something or the other, and closed his eyes. He thought about earlier that day, sleeping next to Jack; his warmth, his smell. His taste. He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. _Fuck's sake_.

 

As the week went by, Jack got more and more stressed. Deliveries at the shop had been hectic, the Pack had been eerily quiet and giving him accusing looks, his hands were sore from hours of beating up his old punching bag; a habit he had for when he got too tense. It was quite an intense hobby, since Jack never knew when enough was enough. His knuckles were constantly busted, wrapped in thin bandages under his night leather gloves, and every once in a while he managed to break a finger or two.

The blond-haired man that visited the shop days ago had been hitting on him insistently, and Anti hadn’t been sleeping in his sofa for a few days. His house felt too empty; even the silence was starting to get on his nerves. Signe had been consistently reminding him of how dangerous Anti was, and how his crush on him was just his “inner superhero” wanting to save him from whatever the hell it was, but Robin had stated very clearly that he should pursue the green-haired man.

“He likes you, and you like him!” He had exasperated, “stop being an idiot!”

“But Robin,” Jack had tried to argue, “he has killed people!”

“ _That_ guy? That flinches when I raise my voice, and stutters whenever you compliment him?” Robin said, “he clearly regrets his past, and he clearly doesn’t like what he does, at least not anymore. You, more than anyone, knows what’s it like to want to change. Doesn’t he deserve a second chance?”

And he was right, Robin was always right. Jack had been with “bad guys” before, and Anti sure didn’t feel like one. He was sweet, polite, shy. Jack groaned, kicking a stray tin can left on the street, as he walked along the usual alleyway at night.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Jack jumped with the sudden voice, then sighed.

“You scared me,” he said, turning to look at his company.

“Whoops.” Anti said, deadpan.

“You deserve a punch in the face.”

“I think you just _want_ to punch me,” he said, looking smug. Jack rolled his eyes, and walked up to him, putting his arms over Anti's shoulders, hands brushing against the man’s choker.

“You _do_ have a very punch-able face.”

“I thought I had a kissable face.”

“Yeah, that too,” Jack murmurs, looking at Anti’s lips, touching the tip of the man's ears. “But don’t taunt me.”

“Or what?” Anti grins. Jack grins back, then grasps his hair and yanks his head to the side. Anti grunts under his breath.

Jack glances up at him for a second, and seeing no signs of protest, leans forward trailing hot kisses from the crook of his neck to under his jaw. He feels Anti's pulse picking up speed.

Anti finds Jack’s waist, warm hands going under his shirt and then up, thumbs brushing against his nipples. Jack gasps softly against his skin. As if taking it as a good sign, he circles them until the buds harden enough for him to take them between his fingers and squeeze, pulling Jack forward slightly. The brown-haired man moans.

Jack guides Anti’s head to meet his lips, the green-haired man welcomes his tongue by opening his mouth against his, eyes fluttering closed. Anti sucks his lower lip and they kiss deeply, breathing each other’s breaths.

Anti walks them to the nearest alley wall, and Jack’s back meets the cold bricks, a shiver going through his spine. They part with hot cheeks and dark eyes.

“What were you saying?” Anti asks, raising an eyebrow.

“To not taunt me-” Jack says, but gasps as Anti grabs his shoulder and forcefully turns him around, the brown-haired man's cheek and hands hitting the cold surface, Anti’s hand pressing him forward against it.

“Or. _What_?” He purrs on Jack’s ear, evoking another shiver from the man. Anti grounds his crotch against his bum. Jack pauses.

He’s been having a rough week. He’s stressed, tense, frustrated, confused. He’s dangerously close to feeling… dull. He thinks about Anti— he wants him, and he’s more than pleased to let him do the honours first. He glares at himself. _If I can’t get rid of my stress_ , he thinks, _I’ll get it fucked out of me_.

Jack grounds back at him in a slow grind. Anti groans under his breath, and presses his nose on the back of his neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He rumbles, slowly.

“A peace offering?” Jack breathes, “Check my jacket pockets.”

Anti leans back with a confused look, but complies. His hands search the leather and he finds a square plastic package. Jack hears a quiet “ _oh_ ”.

The green-haired man’s arms slide to Jack’s crotch, and he gives him a little squeeze before fiddling with his jeans button and opening his zipper. Jack feels immediate relief as his pants and underwear are pushed down just enough to bare his bottom to the cold night breeze, and he lets out a sigh.

“Are you sure?” Anti whispers in his ear.

“Yes.”

There are fumbling sounds— Anti unbuttoning his own pants and fishing his cock out, Jack guesses— and he feels him grind against him eagerly. Anti raises one of his hands from the brown-haired hips and taps his mouth with two fingers; Jack’s lips part, covering the digits with saliva, sucking slowly. His butt cheeks are spread wider, by a warm hand, and he moans around Anti’s fingers as the green-haired man drags his cock near his entrance, fucking the space between his cheeks.

Anti pushes Jack’s pants lower, spreading the man’s legs more by nudging his feet, and moans lowly as he moves his fingers back and forth, caressing his tongue. Jack’s eyes are fluttered closed, lost in the sensation, and lets out a quiet whine when Anti retreats his digits.

“Ready?” Anti asks. Jack nods, looking back at him.

Anti circles his hole teasingly before pushing the first finger in. Jack missed this. He breathes deeply in concentration as Anti moves in and out slowly, curling his finger up, exploring his insides.

It was dark in the alleyway, just the same single yellow street lamp shining a few feet away. Anti could probably faintly see a few of his torso tattoos, but not much. His green eyes were dark, focused, and Jack’s blue half-lidded ones looked back, watching the faint yellow gleam paint Anti’s face, darken his shadows. He was beautiful.

The second finger comes in easily, and Jack pants at the slight burning sensation. Anti scissors him open while holding him lightly at the waist until Jack presses back at him insistently.

“I’m ready,” he says, and whines quietly as the fingers retreat.

“Okay,” Anti mutters, opening the condom package with his teeth and rolling it down on himself. He presses the tip of his cock against his entrance.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jack moans at the stretch, and they both pause after Anti buries himself to the hilt. He can hear Anti’s quick breaths, trying his best to stay still.

Jack was more of a “top”, when it came to sex. He used to bottom a lot in the past, though. He could definitely appreciate being fucked like no one else. The brown-haired man relaxes his body with a sigh, and leans his cheek on the wall completely, hands above his head.

“You can move,” he says thickly.

“ _Oh_ \- Jack-” Anti gasps, thrusting shallowly.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Jack groans.

Anti quickens his pace, holding Jack’s hips with both hands now. Their sounds echo across the empty alleyway, exposing them for anyone to see. Not that there would be anyone out at that time of the night, but the thrill of being careless just turns Jack on more and more. Anti changes his angle infinitesimally, and hits his prostate suddenly.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, moaning louder with each thrust, matching Anti’s movements until his knees start to buckle. “A-Anti, I- _ah!_ ”

“I got you,” he grunts, catching up on what Jack was trying to say. He slows down and wraps an arm around Jack’s waist, and tilts the man’s head back from the wall until his neck rests on Anti’s shoulder. The green-haired man places a hand on Jack’s throat, keeping his head tilted back, successfully locking him in place and carrying his weight on him.

Jack’s body lays fully on Anti’s hold, the new angle keeping him immobile as Anti rams deeper into him. Jack’s eyes roll back, lips parted.

“H-Harder,” he whimpers, voice strained vibrating against Anti’s fingers.

The green-haired man complies immediately. He pounds into him, panting on Jack’s ear, and the florist _shouts_ incoherently. Anti looks around momentarily and decides to move his hand from Jack’s throat to his mouth, muffling his sounds.

“You sing so pretty to me,” Anti breathes, “but I’d rather not wake up the entire neighbourhood.”

Jack moans against his hand. “Anyone could walk on us right now, and you wouldn’t even be able to d-defend yourself, would you?”

Jack is lost in his own pleasure, Anti’s words pushing him closer to his edge. His moans get higher, more desperate, he whines in an attempt of warning, and Anti seems to understand it perfectly, but he swats Jack’s hands from his own cock, red and pulsing with want.

Jack makes a desperate sound. “You’re gonna cum from my cock only, flower boy.”

The brown-haired man relents with an acknowledging whine. Anti’s thrusts get frantic, losing their pace, Jack screaming against his fingers until he feels warmer as Anti loads inside the condom. Jack spurts right after, as the man behind him rides his high with shallow movements, groaning in satisfaction.

The brown-haired man keens high in his throat, cock still hard from coming untouched. Anti stills inside him, and Jack squirms against his hold, whimpering desperately, humping the air. Anti releases his mouth to touch his neck again.

“ _Mmh_ \- oh!- A-Anti,” he blurts, “please! Fuck, I-”

Anti nips his exposed neck, humming against his skin, sucking under his jaw as his hand moves from Jack’s hips to his twitching cock, and squeezes the base above his balls, making a firm ring with his fingers.

Jack chokes. “No, please! _Anti!_ ”

Anti moans softly on his ear. “I could just leave you nice and hard for me for the rest of the night, hm?”

His pleas were cut short by a moan as Anti moved his makeshift ring up and down once. He was _almost there_ , his mind clouded over with pure want.

He knew Anti was toying with him, and that turned him on _disastrously_. He felt the man’s hot lips on his neck, his soft cock still inside him as he stroked Jack’s member slowly, teasingly, driving him _insane_. He yanks Anti’s hair above his head, panting hard at the night wind enveloping them.

After a few more desperate whimpers, Anti takes him out of his misery; he releases Jack’s cock and gives it a stroke, then two, and the man explodes again all over his own belly and Anti’s hand with a cracked shout.

Jack’s eyes flutter closed as he sags against the other man. They breathe together for a moment, Anti peppering Jack’s neck with light kisses. Jack melts.

He frowns lightly when he feels Anti shaking, recovering quickly.

“Let’s sit down,” he whispers. Anti pulls out slowly, takes off the condom, tying it clumsily and throwing it in the close by trashcan.

They both tuck themselves in their respective pants, smearing their clothes with Jack’s cum, which was a bit embarrassing, but he tries not to duel much on it. He slides to the floor, back resting against the wall, and Anti sits down next to him. The man seemed fine enough, just a bit overwhelmed.

Jack opened his arm as an invitation, and the green-haired man tiredly leaned on him, head hesitantly against his shoulder. He closed his arm around him, rubbing his upper arm soothingly, and breathed.

 

During the next few days, Anti didn’t stay at Jack’s place either. _I’m giving him some space_ , Anti would tell himself, _maybe he feels suffocated._ That was, to be fair, half true. Anti felt confused, and a bit scared.

It had been so long, _years_ , since anyone legitimately cared about him, or offered him any sort of comfort. In the back of his poisoned mind, he kept telling himself that he shouldn’t trust anyone so quickly, that he’d regret involving himself with that man. But how could  he blame himself, when Jack had been nothing but so _sweet?_ He welcomed him into his own home, wasn’t scared off by Anti’s strange freak-outs. Even let him fuck him, of all things! Granted, Jack seemed like the type of guy who did that kind of thing often, or at least did in the past. He seemed quite used to fucking in alleys, anyway. But still.

Anti did fuck quite a few people back when he felt like it, but he never had any connection with them. They were merely temporary things to get his frustrations out. But it hadn’t felt like that with Jack. Sure, it was spontaneous, and crude —as much as alleyway fucks were—, but then there was affection, and something more that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He sighed, looking at the sewing kit sprawled on the floor in front of him. He was seated cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, sewing together a new patch for his jacket. It was this little hobby one has that don’t really think much about it, and then suddenly there are 15 patches scattered across his room, and unfinished ones all over his pockets. It was an unusual hobby, maybe, but it did keep him occupied as he deliberated on personal things. Things he had no one to talk to besides himself.

The needle made it’s way into Anti’s skin. _God dammit_. This was going to be a long day.

A few hours later, he passed in front of the flowershop. It was a calm day, but through the glass window he could see a frantic Jack moving around big plant vases, and answering the phone every few minutes. There was a blonde man inside the place, whose gaze seemed to follow the brown-haired man from one side to another, that exchanged some words with the florist from time to time. Jack had the always present polite smile on his face, and his cheeks looked a bit pink.

He frowned. _It’s just another customer_ , he told himself, and pushed a strange feeling down his gut down. Said feeling went away almost completely, though, as soon as Jack glanced outside and their eyes met, and was replaced with a fluttering feeling inside his chest. He shook his head. _Get a grip._ Anti waved with a shy smile. Jack waved back, fixing his hair nervously. The blonde man inside stared at him with a displeased face. Anti smirked to himself.

“You guys are ridiculous.” Anti jumped at the sudden voice, turning back. _Fucking Robin._

“Why?” He asked the man, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Robin shook his head with a smile. “Why haven’t you been at his place?” He asked instead of answering.

“I got stuff to do,” he said lamely, then his fake street persona dropped as the man just raised an eyebrow. “I was giving him space,” he admitted.

Robin smirked, his eyes soft. “Well, Jack seems to be going insane with so much space and no one to share it with. Silence can be suffocating, you know?”

Anti nodded. He understood that feeling perfectly. He smiled shyly. “Does he miss me?”

“Of course he misses you,” Robin said, with an exasperated, suffering voice, as is he was saying the sun was hot, or the stars were far away, to a very slow person. The man looked at his watch. “The shop is almost closing, you should wait him here.”

Anti glances at the blonde man inside the shop again, who stood too closely to Jack for anybody’s comfort. “I don’t know…”

Robin followed the green-haired man’s gaze, and bumped his elbow at his side encouragingly. “He looks like he needs some company.”

Anti nodded. Robin clapped his back and began to walk away.

“Oh, Robin…!” His call died down as he looked back; the man was already gone. He shrugged, and waited in a nearby bench.

He was almost asleep when a hand touched his shoulder. He tensed immediately.

“You haven’t been sleeping much again, have you?” The familiar voice spoke. Anti relaxed.

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“It’s also for the ones who live after 40.”

Anti rolled his eyes with a smile, and looked up at the man. He looked tired, his knuckles were wrapped in discrete white bandages. He decided not to comment on it.

“You haven’t been sleeping either, apparently. You look like shit.”

“Fuck off,” Jack said, giggling. His face brightening up like the first sunrise of spring. Anti stood up and placed his hands lightly on Jack’s hips. The man crowded closer almost instinctively. They both smiled at each other at almost an inch apart.

Anti glanced sideways to that blonde guy across the street, who stared at them with dark eyes. The green-haired man grinned. _Sucker_.

“Come on, let’s go to my place,” Jack whispered.

And they did. Both men spent the rest of the evening on Jack’s sofa, talking about games, and even playing some— to which Anti utterly _destroyed_ Jack in most of them.

Night came along, and there was no patrolling for Jack this time, the streets were calm and the man seemed to need a little break. They cuddled close in the sofa— Anti had gotten a bit less hesitant to affection at that point— and watched a dumb TV show.

As sleepy as Jack looked, the men seemed to hold a bit of tension still on his shoulders as Anti rested his head on them. Their legs were squished together, and Jack’s hand rested on Anti’s thigh, thumb moving in circles absent mindedly. Anti squirms.

Jack kneads the inside on his thigh in response, getting closer to his crotch. Anti shifts to press his face on the man’s shoulder, inching to his neck. Taking it as a good sign, the florist proceeds, cupping Anti’s crotch with his hand and pressing down. The green-haired man grunts, blood rushing to his cock.

“ _I missed you_ ,” Jack breathes on his ear, his voice dripping with want.

Anti nips his neck. “ _Me too._ ”

“Want to go to bed?”

“Yes.”

Jack picked Anti up like he weighted nothing, the green-haired man's legs wrapping around Jack’s waist quickly, painting his neck with hickeys.

The bedroom door was opened with a kick, and Anti was put in bed delicately by Jack. The brown-haired man looks down at him, cupping his cheeks with both hands, and appears to search for the answers of a million things inside his green eyes.

Answers Anti might not have, or might have forgotten about, for questions that are forbidden, or just too obscure. And in the middle of this sea of inquires, and secrets, and confusion, there’s just one question he manages to fish out. Anti nods. The answer was ‘ _yes’_.

He was nervous, of course. He had not ‘bottomed' since… a long time. Anti didn’t want to feel that vulnerable ever again, and thought he wouldn’t trust anyone like this ever again either. But here he was, and for his own surprise, he was ready. Maybe not as ready as one can possibly be, but Jack was there, with him, looking inside his eyes so intensely, and intently, just waiting for any kinds of red flags.

Jack’s eyes soften, and he whispers, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, or doesn’t want to. I could bottom again, if you’d prefer.”

Anti bit his lip. He wanted this. He was scared, but he did want this.

“I want this,” he confirmed, more to himself than to the other man, “just… slow. Uh- careful. Because- um. Y'know-”

“We’ll go as slow as you want,” Jack reassures, then his face turns serious. “If you need me to stop, for _any_ reason at all, you have to tell me.”

Anti flinches. He wasn’t very good at speaking out.

“I’ve got an idea,” Jack says suddenly, “we can have a safeword.”

“Kinky,” Anti teased, making the brown-haired man huff.

“If you want me to stop, say… _Burdock_.”

He frowns up at him. “What kind of safeword is that?”

“It’s… it’s a plant thing.”

Anti shrugs. “If you say so.”

Jack shifts, straddling Anti’s waist, and moves his hands to take off his shirt.

“Wait,” he says. Jack stops immediately. Anti smiles. “Slower.”

The florist smirks, and pulls his shirt over his head slowly, making a show of it. His torso is revealed bit by bit, and Anti finally has all the time in the world to properly understand what was inked into his white skin, that he had only had glimpses of before.

His right shoulder and upper arm were covered with black roses and some leaves, along with other random, stylish designs— from videogames, he recognized. The sides of his torso were covered with leaves like vines, that disappeared under Jack’s pants. He was strong, Anti could tell, but his muscles were beautifully sculptured, pink nipples hard and straight forward.

The green-haired man raises his arms to Jack’s sides to trace the inked drawings with his warm fingers, his thumbs pressing down on his ribcage, feeling the hard muscle above his bones. He looks up, to see Jack’s cheeks pink, and a mildly embarrassed smile.

“Like what you see?” He asks. Anti nods.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “so much to explore.”

“Well,” Jack says, “go on.”

Anti’s hands move to the man’s back, trailing down his tailbone until he reaches Jack’s buttcheeks, squeezing them hard. Jack gasps under his breath. Anti kneads his ass, spreading them apart, pulling them upwards, pressing a finger in between them through the fabric. Jack grounds down at the contact.

Anti’s fingers go under Jacks pants, pulling them down slowly, and as they reach the man's thighs, he gently pushes him sideways, so they can switch positions. With him now on the top, he takes Jack’s pants off completely, along with his underwear, throwing them on the floor next to the bed. He pauses, looking down. The vines along Jack’s torso continued down his hips and the side of his thighs, and he could see them going around him to wrap both of his buttcheeks. The nature inked across his milky skin looked like the most beautiful, green garden, and in the middle of it was his red cock, already hard against his stomach, making a beautiful contrast. He was an art masterpiece.

“You’re… beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone. Jack squirms a bit, flustered.

The brown-haired man wraps his legs around Anti’s waist, and smoothly brings him against the mattress, switching their positions once again. Anti gasps with the sudden movement, looking up at Jack with wide eyes.

“Your turn,” he says, and Anti sits up just enough to carefully remove his shirt, throw it away, and lay back down again. He avoids Jack’s intense gaze at him.

Anti had never been proud of his body. He was fit, and muscular, but his skin was covered in scars that he knew way too well. His chest full of scratches, his stomach with old stabbing and bullet wounds. The back of his hands were ruined, and his back wasn’t any better, though some of his circuit tattoos covered most things. He’s dragged out of his thoughts as he flinches, when Jack touches the marred skin below his biceps, on his underarm.

He feels Jack’s fingers trace the 6 words burned into his skin: _Glitch_. The air feels heavy, and right when he thought he was going to hear a noise of disgust from the man above him, said man touched his chin gently, tilting his head, calling his attention. Anti meets his eyes, to see how compassionate, almost _loving_ , they are.

Jack smiles softly, and trails a finger from Anti’s chest to his navel slowly, eliciting a shudder from the man.

“May I?” He asks, fingers just under his pants.

“Yes.”

He slides his pants and underwear off, exploring his strong thighs with his cold fingers, thumbing his sharp hipbones, caressing him soothingly. _That feels okay_ , he thinks, _that feels safe_. His hard member twitches with nervousness, but Jack’s attention isn’t on it just yet. _Oh_. Jack was staring at his black choker. _God, no._ He hadn’t taken that off for a long period of time on ages, just briefly during showers. He needed to wear it, he needed to feel it, he _needed_ -

“Anti,” Jack interrupts his thoughts with a gentle voice. “Can I take this off?”

Anti bites his lip, and hesitantly nods. Jack unbuckles it slowly, and the green-haired man holds his breath as the fabric leaves his skin, revealing his first ever nightmare scar— a long, marred gash across his neck. He closes his eyes, and awaits for the worst. He feels cold digits tracing the line, and gulps.

Jack lowers himself down to brush his nose against his neck, tilting Anti’s head to the side by grabbing his hair.

 _“What’s this, hm?”_ He hums near his ear, placing open mouthed kisses on his pulse point. The action makes Anti sulk in a breath, finally.

Jack keeps trailing hot kisses under his jaw, over his scar, under his ear. Anti moans under his breath, relaxing more against the mattress.

“You’re a piece of work,” Jack says lightly, making him even more flustered.

The brown-haired man trails more kisses from his neck down his chest, lapping over his nipples quickly, then going lower until his lips touch the head of Anti’s cock. Jack looks up, he nods.

Jack gives the head a little kiss, and proceeds to take it on his mouth, bobbing up and down until his nose touches Anti’s navel. He moans. It feels hot, wet, and Jack gags a little, his throat convulsing around him. Anti takes Jack’s hair in hands and moves his head up and down, using his mouth slowly, going deep inside his throat, each dip making choked little noises leave Jack’s lips, a string of saliva connecting them.

As Anti’s cock starts to twitch, and his thighs to get tenser, Jack releases him, untangling himself from Anti’s fingers, and reaches to his bedside drawer. Anti misses the pressure immediately, but follows Jack’s hands as he takes lube and a condom from his things. Jack leaves the supplies aside for a moment, and moves up to cup Anti’s face with both hands, looking inside his eyes.

“What’s your safeword again?”

“Um. _Burdock_. The plant thing.”

Jack nods approvingly. “If you say that word, everything stops. I’ll move away from you, give you all the space you need. We can get dressed again and play some games, or watch a movie instead. No big deal, okay?”

Anti feels his chest swell with the compromise. He feels like if he stopped everything, nothing would change, and maybe they could even try again later. _You can do this_ , he encouraged himself, _no pressure._ He nods.

Jack uncaps the lube bottle, smearing his fingers with the stuff. He gently spreads Anti’s legs, and circles his hole on the outside. Anti tenses. A voice full of poison invades his mind.

_“Let’s get you nice and open for me.”_

He shakes that thought away. _You’re fine. You’re fine._ Jack’s cold finger makes his way past the tight muscle ring, and he stills. The sensation is… strange, but definitely familiar. He takes a deep breath in, and nods. Jack’s finger slowly moves, firstly in small circles, feeling around, then in and out. It stings a bit, but after a few thrusts, his body seems to like it.

The second finger comes in, then the third, and at this point Anti is meeting his fingers with ease. It feels good, and slippery, and he wants more. He opens his eyes—he had closed them in concentration,— to see Jack removing his finger, and placing the already opened condom on his hard member. Anti’s hole clenches at nothing with the loss.

Jack lines himself up, and props his elbows on each side of Anti’s head, giving it a feeling of intimacy, safety and trust. Their noses brush together, and Anti’s hands go around Jack’s head for support.

“Ready?” Jack breathes.

“Yeah.”

Anti squeezes his eyes shut and grunts as he feels Jack’s cock enter him smoothly, without much strain. The man is slow, and as soon as he’s buried deep inside Anti, he stops. Anti takes deep breaths and opens his eyes, to see Jack’s closed eyelids, brows furrowed in concentration as he manages to keep still for his sake.

“Jack,” Anti calls, “you can move.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asks, voice strained.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “just go slow.”

Jack pecks his lips in understanding, and opens his eyes, moving his hips slowly, shallowly, as Anti gets used to it.

The pace gets easier, and Jack’s thrusts are now complete, and deep. He fucks him, gripping his hair with both hands, moaning lowly next to his ear.

“ _Fuck_ , Anti,” Jack groans.

“Y-Yeah,” he agrees, his breathing picking up.

Suddenly, Jack hits his spot, and Anti sees white. He moans loudly, and his eyes glaze over. Memories come rushing in.

He can’t move, his body and his mind aren’t connected by sanity strings. He hears himself, faintly, choked by that damn _collar_ , as he’s pounded and _pounded_ into, drool dripping out of his agape mouth, cheek resting against the cold office table. He hears the voice, full of venom, a putrid snake hissing on his ear. _I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy, I promise! I’m_ -

“Anti!” Jack’s voice calls. He blinks up at him with wide, green eyes. The pounding had stopped. “Talk to me.”

Anti sulks in a gulp of air. _You’re okay. This is Jack. You’re safe._ He moans as he instinctively clenches around him. Jack chokes.

“Keep going.”

“Are you sure-”

_“Keep going!”_

Anti swears out loud as Jack’s thrusts quicken their pace, nailing his spot continuously. They moan together, the bed creaking under them. They clash their mouths together in a hungry kiss, with tongue and teeth and harsh breaths.

Anti tenses, “F-Fuck!”, his cum smearing his stomach as his cock bounces with the rest of his body, Jack nailing his hips vigorously. The thrusts get uneven, he feels Jack’s grip on his hair tighten.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jack gasps, Anti bumps their foreheads as an encouragement, his sensitive hole throbbing. He feels warmth, and the brown-haired man slows down, riding his high out, and comes to a stop. They breathe together for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, worry clouding over his blissed out face.

“Yeah,” Anti pants, too tired to move an inch.

Jack pulls out slowly, and goes quickly to the bathroom to throw his condom out, and brings out a wet washcloth to gently clean Anti up.

Anti hears and feels his movements vaguely, half-lidded eyes unfocused. In less than 5 minutes, he senses a warm body wrapping around him, holding him against his chest. Anti breathes in and out, gradually. He smells Jack’s scent; his cologne, sweat, sex written all over it.

He hugs Jack’s middle and buries his face on his chest, moving up and down with Jack’s breathing. He sighs contentedly, and promptly falls asleep.

 

Jack is awoken by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He shifts a little, a weight over his chest, and blinks his eyes open sleepily.

“Seems like you two had fun.”

Jack looked down at the mop of green hair under his chin, and back at the visitor.

“Fuck off, Robin,” he groaned. The man chuckled.

“I thought you had your doubts about him.”

“I still have,” Jack sighed, gently pushing a strand of green hair away from Anti’s sleeping face. “He always looks so peaceful, when he’s sleeping.”

Robin nodded. “It’s sickly adorable. I hate it.”

“No you don’t, you big Teddy bear.”

Robin scoffed indignantly. “Listen here you little-”

“ _Shush!_ ” Jack hushed, “you’re gonna wake him up.”

He felt Anti shift slightly in his sleep, nuzzling his chest softly. Jack and Robin stilled.

 _“Jack?”_ Anti muttered, still asleep, barely moving his lips.

Jack glanced at Robin, and then back at the man. “ _I’m here, Anti. It’s alright. You can sleep,_ ” he whispered.

Anti made a content noise, and snuggled closer before falling still again. Jack sighed.

“You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” Robin teased. Jack scowled at him.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?”

“Yeah, take care of _your_ plants, since you’ve been _busy_.”

Jack rolled his eyes, and shooed him away. Robin left the house chuckling quietly. He shook his head fondly.

He carded his fingers through Anti’s messy hair, watching his back go up and down. The weight against him felt grounding, like it was a necessary part of him. Waking up cold and alone felt… empty. He didn’t want to feel empty anymore.

After almost half an hour, he decided to wake the man up. He hadn’t eaten or drank anything following a very intense experience. He gently nuzzled the top of Anti’s head, squeezing him a little.

“ _Mmh_.” Anti mumbled, frowning lightly and opening his heavy eyes. He looked around, and then up at Jack, squinting at the light. The brown-haired man bit his lip to hold a giggle.

“Good morning, sleepy cactus,” Jack said quietly. Anti groaned and hid his face in Jack’s chest again.

Jack giggled. “Come on, you need to eat something, drink some water…”

“No thanks, I pass.”

“No can do,” he mused, caressing Anti’s back. Then, Jack said seriously, “are you hurt anywhere?”

Anti seemed to pause for a second, checking up on himself. He made a slight grimace, but covered it quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Not buying it. Try again.”

The green-haired man sighed. “Just a bit sore. It had been- uh. A while”

Jack nodded kindly. “We’ll take it easy today, watch a movie, eat some popcorn.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anti smirked.

 

Later that week, Jack was looking through his flower deliveries in the shop, and lamented once again the lack of a delivery person that could do the job for him. A lot of people couldn’t bare stay inside a flowershop, or were too busy, so they’d order flowers at home instead. Which would be fine, if the florist didn’t have so much to do all the time.

New packs of seeds and natural fertilizer had to be put in the stock room, a vase that had been broken had to be repaired, and that Richard guy wouldn’t leave him alone. Not only that, but there seemed to be more vandalism done by the Pack these days— they were probably getting bored, since their leader was with Jack all the time.

“So I was thinking,” a smooth voice yanked him away from his spiral of stressful thoughts. Jack glanced up to see Richard, once again, leaning on the balcony as the florist organized different price labels. “There’s a new movie at the cinema. We could go watch it, what do you think?”

Jack paused, and took a deep breath. “That sounds great but- uh-”

Richard rose his eyebrows at him. “Are you with someone?”

He opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Technically, he wasn’t with anyone. He was single. Anti and him weren’t _dating_. But he felt too strongly towards him to go out with anyone else; it felt like cheating.

“I’m single,” Jack admitted, then added quickly, “but I’m not really, um, looking for anyone right now. I’m sorry.”

The blonde man nodded. “Of course, I understand.” There was an awkward silence pause. “So you and that… green-haired boy aren’t…?”

“No, no. We’re just… friends.”

“Right.”

There was a ring of the tiny door bell as someone entered the shop. Jack almost sighed in relief.

“Hi Robin.”

“Hey, I was gonna ask…” Robin trailed off as his eyes landed on the visitor. “Oh, you got a customer. I’ll just wait on the outside-”

“No, no! He was already leaving, weren’t you?” Jack asked Richard, “unless you wanted another plant?”

The blonde man set his jaw. “I don’t need anything else, thank you. Have a good day, gentlemen.”

Richard left the shop, and Jack sagged against the balcony. He was so tired.

“Are you alright?” Robin asked gently.

“Yeah. Long day.”

His friend glanced outside and then back at Jack. “What’s up with that guy?”

“Oh, y'know. One of the _insistent_ ones,” he answered rather bitterly.

Robin put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “Remember that it’s always your choice.”

Jack gave him a small smile. In his past, sometimes things got messy with insistent men. Robin was there to help him through it, without any judgement, and coached him about choices, saying _‘no'_ , and consent. He’d never make the same mistakes he had before, and Robin was there to protect him from himself, and from others. He was really glad to have him as a best friend.

“I know. Don’t worry about me.”

Robin clapped his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

Jack huffed, and continued to organize his tags.

After a few minutes, Robin spoke up, looking outside the window, “why is he still here?”

Jack followed his gaze, to see Richard leaning against a brick wall right around the street corner. He frowned. Was he waiting for his shift to end? Had he _always_ waited for it, and Jack just hadn’t realized it? He shivered.

“I dunno,” Jack shrugged. Robin hummed.

“Well, just… keep an eye out.”

But he didn’t. About 3 days later, he had piles and piles of work, late deliveries, and his stock room was filled with packages he had yet to organize. He should’ve been thankful, really; the shop was thriving, and he was getting a very good income out of it, but truth was, he was stressed out.

His house felt too empty without Anti, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to define what they had together. _Probably nothing. You’re probably just imagining all of this._

He got a big package delivery to do today, about 4 different, delicate vases. He got the order on his motorbike, and checked again foe the address. It was a bit far, on the borders of the neighbourhood, and the sun had set a few minutes ago. He sighed. He was going to come home late tonight. _Not like you have anyone to come back to anyway._ He put on his helmet, and made his way out of the usual path.

At least he didn’t have a meeting with Anti today; cancelling it because of work would’ve sucked. He wondered what Anti was doing right now. _Probably something illegal_ , he thought.

He parked his bike on a nearby fence, and took his helmet off, checking for the right house number. The street was dark, much like the alley he and Anti were so found of, and pretty much empty.

He was lost in thought, trying to decipher his own handwriting, when suddenly something grabbed him from behind, altering his balance, and before he could exclaim any kind of noise, something was pushed against his face, his mouth quickly being forced open and filled with liquid. His eyes widened.

A voice hummed closely to his ear. “We should’ve gone to the movies, hm?”

His head was yanked back, a hand forcing his jaw shut, and his nose clamped closed. He couldn’t help it; his throat convulsed and he choked, the liquid being swallowed. He struggled against the person’s hold, hitting them back with his elbow. The attacker grunts and takes a step back, Jack sulking in a breath, air filling up his lungs again. He stumbled, looking back.

“What the _fuck!_ ” He shouted, eyes laying on a tall, blonde figure. _Richard_.

 _Son of a bitch._ _Okay, okay, breathe_. Jack had police training. He could fight this man. He was strong, he was skilled, he was… so _dizzy_ …

 

Robin was driving madly fast. He saw the address Jack supposedly had to make a delivery on, and he didn’t trust it at all. It was in a way excluded, dark area to be safe. He was anxious, and suspicious, so he decided, on a whim, to check up on him.

His suspicions were correct. As he got close to the address number, his heart skipped a beat at the scene in front on him. Jack’s crumpled form was propped against a brick wall, his eyes half-lidded,  worryingly still, as a tall, thin form loomed over him, sickly white hands cupping Jack’s face. He advanced silently from behind.

“Did you like your drink? I picked it up just for you,” the man’s voice purred, “it’ll help you to relax.”

Jack glanced up at him with glassy eyes, making a faint noise of protest. The man— _Richard, was it?_ — chuckled, uncomfortably close to Jack’s face. “Don’t worry. It’ll just keep you nice and calm while we have fun, isn’t that wonderful?”

Robin watched, horrified, as Jack struggled weakly against the man’s grasp, then let out a strangled whine, knees getting more shaky. Richard held him up, shushing him in a soothing tone.

“There you go,” he cooed, “next time you’ll think twice about refusing me for- _shit!”_

Robin hit him on the back of his head, the blonde man losing his balance, then kicked him under his feet. The man fell down with a curse, cradling his neck, and Robin quickly went to Jack. He was crying.

“Jack,” Robin rushed, “Jack, hold on, buddy.”

Not seeing immediate injuries, he turned back to Richard, who had risen from the ground. He had a maniac look on his sharp eyes, and a pocket knife in his hand.

“You won’t ruin this for me,” Richard growled, and pounced at Robin in blind rage.

Robin, of course, was a really skilled fighter, and much stronger than the skinny mad man. He quickly grabbed Richard’s hand, and twisted his wrist in a painful angle. The man cried out, and the knife was dropped. _Asshole_.

He punched the man right across the jaw, pushing him back to the ground. He straddled Richard’s back, placed one hand on his shoulder, and pulled his arm back with the other. A sickly _crack_ echoed on his ears, along with a scream. Robin yanked the attacker's head back by his hair, and growled full of poison, “I could break every single bone in your pathetic body and throw it to stray, drooling dogs, and wouldn’t be close to satisfied.”

Richard took a sharp breath with a whimper.

“Leave.”

Robin stood up, pulling Richard with him, and pushed him harshly forward. _“Go!”_

The blonde man ran away, drops of blood painting his path.

In a beat, Robin was next to Jack, who had slipped down the wall, to the ground.

“Jack, come on, stay awake,” Robin hushed, taking the man on his arms.

In his panicked, sluggish state, he sobbed harder, weakly thrashing against his hold. _“G-Get o' me!”_ He mumbled, choking on his own saliva.

Robin only held him tighter, and got on his bike quickly. Riding a bike while holding someone bridal style was not something he’d ever recommend, but this was an emergency.

He drove madly fast again, back to his own house, right next to Jack’s. He jumped off the vehicle, got inside banging the door shut behind him, and laid Jack down on the living room sofa. He cupped Jack’s wet cheeks with both hands, and spoke lowly and calmly.

“Jack,” he started, “did he touch any more?”

The man didn’t— or couldn’t—answer, just choke more on his own sobs. Robin worriedly stood up and went to the kitchen, getting a cup of cold water and a spare bucket.

He propped Jack up against his chest. “Come on, please drink it.”

He did, shakily, some of it dripping down his chin, and his friend would probably have been embarrassed, but was too out of it to care anyway. Robin cupped the back of the man’s neck comfortingly, caressing his hair, and wrapped his other arm around Jack’s shoulders. He cradled his friend on his chest, hugging him warmingly, making shooshing sounds.

“You’re okay now. It’s okay, see? I’m right here, Jack.”

After a few minutes, Jack’s cries slowed down enough for him to take big gulps of air at each breath, which was progress. Robin knew one of his worst fears was not being in control of his own body, of being used or taken advantage of. He knew that his friend put so much pressure on himself to be strong, to be reliable. Superhero Jack, always trying to win.

Robin needed answers though. He needed to know if he was hurt, or if anything worse had happened.

“ _Jack,_ ” he tried again, softly as to not startle him, “did he hurt you?”

The brown-haired man sniffed. His eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular. He shook his head slightly. Robin sighed in relief.

“Is this poison, or just a knock out drug?”

He waited patiently for Jack to process the question. His lip trembled, “ _k-knock out._ ”

“Okay. I brought a bucket for you, if you need to throw up, it’s right here on the floor.” Jack nodded meekly against the fabric of Robin's shirt. “Just rest now, I’m right here with you. No one will get to you again, yeah?”

Jack was already asleep.

 

The next few days were difficult. Jack was jumpy, always looking both ways before entering his own house. He took a break of night patrolling— Robin obviously forced him to— and Signe did quick deliveries on the shop so Jack wouldn’t have to so soon.

He hadn’t seen Anti yet, avoiding him when he tried to say hi on a sunny evening. He felt awful for it. _I’m such a jerk._

Jack never had had the healthiest coping mechanisms when it came to… well, anything. His time with the punching bag on the gym nearby only grew and grew, and the pain on his hands felt grounding, distracting.

He was punching the bag with such force anyone without practice would have broken their fingers from, and Jack had a few times, too. But right now, nothing really mattered. He needed to feel something, anything, and if that was stinging pain, then so be it. Jack was on the verge of busting an entire finger open, when someone entered the gym room. He froze, panting.

“So this is were you spend your time now,” a voice said. His shoulders dropped.

“Yeah, so just- leave me be, okay?”

“No can do.”

Jack sighed, turning around. “Listen, Anti-”

“No, _you_ listen,” Anti interrupted, looking down at Jack's bleeding hand. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“It’s none of your business,” Jack snapped.

“What good is that doing to you, you fucking moron?”

“It makes me feel something,” Jack murmurs, avoiding his gaze.

“There are other ways to feel things, you don’t need to hurt yourself-”

Jack’s mind was altered. Clouded over with anger, sadness, paranoia. He couldn’t think, his mouth was moving spitting words he didn’t want to say, in a tone he didn’t like. He couldn’t stop himself, he didn’t care. _I don’t care. I don’t care!_

He pushes Anti away from him. “Get out.”

“No.”

“Anti, I swear to God.”

Anti pushes him back with force. “Try me.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You clearly do,” Anti says, and they both try to knock the other’s feet, to get the upper hand.

“Stop, for fuck's sake!”

“What’s gotten you so far up your own ass?!”

Jack’s nostrils flare up. Bitter, hot words just spill out of his mouth as he tears up, shouting, blood drops flying as he moves his hands vigorously.

“What’s gotten me so far up my own ass?! I’ll tell you what. The fact that  few days ago I was drugged, almost _raped_ , and could do _nothing_ about it! The fact that doesn’t matter how hard I try, how focused I am, someone can just come in and take the wheels of my life, my body, and crash the damn thing with _everything_ inside!”

“ _What?!_ Jack, calm down-”

“ _No!_ Everyone just wants me _nice and calm_ , right? No one wants the ticking bomb inside the flowershop!”

“ _Jack!_ ”

“ _Leave me alone!_ ” Jack’s fist clashes against Anti’s face. The man lets out a choked noise, stumbling back.

The world seemed to freeze.

Jack’s pulse thumps on his ears, his breathing shallow. He looks down at his own bleeding hands, to find blood that isn’t his. His eyes shot up to Anti, cradling his face, skin around his eye ripped open in little red, busted lines. _Fuck_.

“Anti, I-I'm sor-”

Anti raises his hand to stop him. He takes a deep breath, turns around, and leaves.

Why did he always push people away? Why was it hard to accept help, and talk about his feelings?

Maybe because he didn’t trust Anti. Maybe he doesn’t know if he’s a reliable person at all— _Bullshit_. Jack is just stubborn, and Anti is, too. They’re meant to bump against each other. But Jack needs to finally learn to pick his fights, and this, wasn’t one worth risking a… _friendship_ over. Or maybe something more. Jack sighs. He needed to fix this.

 

Anti throws the empty glass bottle of whiskey to the wall on the other side of the alley, watching it clash and shatter, a million tiny, shiny sharp pieces flying around, reflecting the faint yellow light coming from the lamppost.

They say half a bottle of whiskey can kill you, so he just had to try it. It might had been seen as a dramatic measure, considering the preceding events, but his fight with Jack has just been the last drop of an already leaking through dam.

Fighting with Jack was just the universe telling him that love wasn’t something he could have, or even understand. He thought he could trust him. How _stupid_.

 _You shouldn’t have trusted him_ , his mind keept repeating itself, _anyone that cares about you, ends up hurt._ He yanks at his own hair. _He lied to you. He doesn’t care about you. No one ever has. Just die! Why won’t you just die?!_

He sobbed. How easier would it be, if the only poison rushing through his veins was the alcohol.

 

Jack finds him an hour later, passed out on the cold floor, covered in vomit.

He rushes to his side, checking his pulse and his breathing. _Okay, alive. Good._ Jack looks around to the place covered in glass shards, the smell of whiskey under the putrid smell of acid. _Alcohol poisoning_. Vomiting was actually one of the only good signs in the whole scene.

He calls for Robin, who is there in the blink of an eye, and they carry him carefully to Jack’s place.

“How much did he drink?” Robin asked, picking a glass of water from the kitchen.

“At _least_ a whole bottle of whiskey. But he seems to have thrown it all up, thank God.”

Robin nods. “If he’s not dead, he threw it all up.”

Jack inspects Anti’s slack face. Around his left eye, the skin is purple, full of cuts made by Jack’s own fist. He feels a pang in his chest. _Oh, Anti._

He strokes the tender bruise with his thumb, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“What are you going to do?” Robin murmurs.

“The right thing, I hope.”

Robin smiles proudly at him, and they wait together for the unconscious man to wake up.

Which he does, about 3 hours later, with a gagging sound. Robin acts quickly, shoving the bucket under Anti’s chin, and the green-haired man throws up more liquid. Jack winces, fidgeting with his fingers.

Anti spits in the bucket, looking pale, and glances up at Robin, squinting.

“I thought I died for a second there,” Anti says, words slurred.

Robin snorts. “Not this time, buddy.”

“Great,” he said, eyes flickering to the side to land on Jack, then groans. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Jack blinks. “I… live here.”

Anti frowns, “then what am _I_ doing here?”, already moving to stand up.

He went back down, though, when his balance failed to hold him up, and Robin raised his hands cautiously, to catch him in case he fell.

“Well, you’re alive,” Robin stated nonchalantly, “see you guys tomorrow.”

He stood up, clamped Jack’s back, and left out the door. Jack took a deep breath. Robin had left on purpose, as the duo needed to have a… private conversation. They both stay in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, and he meant it wholeheartedly. “Sometimes I got a punchbag heartbeat. I can’t really tell where the beats should go.”

Anti huffed, shaking his head. “I should've given you more space.”

“No, you shouldn't have. I felt… alone,” he admitted, “this house is too empty, without my occasional housemate.” Jack smirked.

“What, need help with rent? I’m broke,” Anti joked. He giggled, sitting right next to the man in the sofa. His blue eyes meeting green ones.

They smiled and held each other, Anti falling back to sleep quickly.

In the next morning, Anti didn’t mention to leave, and Jack’s heartbeat seemed to drum music on his ears.

 And with the start of a new love song, he danced.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank's for reading! Now, for some links:
> 
> Trashcansasha's drawings related to this chapter: |[1](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/176668211776/tried-to-make-it-as-complete-as-possible-it-was)| |[2](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/176711294521/alright-22-plus-a-close-up-of-that-back-tattoo)| |[3](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/176846485171/scenes-from-the-last-shot-and-pretty-much-vent-art)| |[4](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/177065093366/punching-your-feelings-until-theyre-gone-is-not)| |[5](https://trashcan-dirt.tumblr.com/post/184713427395/my-lotus-plutonic5-video-blogging-rpf)|
> 
>  
> 
> [Flower Meanings Reference](http://www.languageofflowers.com/flowermeaning.htm)
> 
>  
> 
> [Date Rape Drug Implied](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gamma-Hydroxybutyric_acid#Date_rape_drug) | [Why Is Consent Important?](http://www.rightforeducation.org/home-family/the-importance-of-sexual-consent/)
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr!](https://plutonic-5.tumblr.com/)


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